d r e a m e r

Hearken! The end I aim at is not joy;I crave excitement, agonizing bliss,Enamour'd hatred, quickening vexation.Purged from the love of knowledge, my vocation,The scope of all my powers henceforth be this,To bare my breast to every pang, to knowIn my heart's core all human weal and woe,To grasp in thought the lofty and the deep,Men's various fortunes on my breast to heap,And thus to theirs dilate my individual mind,And share at length with them the shipwreck of mankind.